Let's Be A Little Less Trashy
by Pmrising
Summary: Faberry Week. Friends with Benefits. A little situation occurs after a timely little tussle between the sheets at Rachel's house. One-shot.


Friends with Benefits, Faberry Week (?)

A/N: Pretty excited to release this. My first Faberry fanfic out of many, many of which stored on my Mom's personal computer. _Yes my mom's_. You can understand that most of my days are filled with hiding my personal folders, backtracking my accounts and relatively deleting my google history. It's not like my mom knows what I've been writing, but she has been asking recently if I've been working on a book. I said yes. She wants to read it when it's done. _Help._

* * *

Quinn groaned.

But it was a distinctly different sort of groan from the one she just belted out not three hours ago. No, it was more frustrated. Not as sultry or as raspy as when she was tucked away in-between sheets, spread and pulled by all her limbs moments ago. Usually the tone is more light, feminine if you will. This time it was just outright disgusting. And Rachel didn't like it one bit.

"I'm looking for it can you stop growling." She muttered, obviously irritated.

"Oh you haven't heard growling yet Berry," Quinn warned, spreading the closet doors open, practically shoving her entire frame into the small space, "This is my favorite bra we're talking about here."

Rachel scoffed, "I know for a fact Quinn, that you have many other bras that you like _more _than this one." She looked under the bed, hushing, "And that look like, ten times better on you."

"What did you just say?" She hollered from inside Rachel's closet.

"Nothing."

A few seconds of silence.

Another groan, "Every time we do this it always ends the same way-," Quinn peeked out from the closet, "-Articles of my clothing missing. Gone."

Rachel muttered something back, too busy searching underneath her bed. Or maybe just trying to hide under it. Quinn watched, with this sort of angry, out of breath, panting, as Rachel's ass poked from under the bed, currently waving through the air

"And can you put on some underwear?" the blond mumbled out, dragging her eyes away from the view to search on the floor.

"Found it!" Rachel cried out, jumping up from under the bed. Bra clasped tightly in her hand, thrust into the air for all of the room to see. She waved it around like an award, and Quinn was fast to walk over and snatch it from her grip.

The brunette didn't look the least bit upset from her counterpart's unruly behavior. She always acted like this after sex. Angry, uptight, upset, rude, Quinn always did have a way of being unusual. Weren't people usually happy before sex? She just seemed out of place, out of mind even. The blond gave Rachel a little eyebrow raise, and then pulled her arms back to clasp her bra securely over the breasts the short girl had been gawking at. Her mouth parted just a bit, with those eyes, wide as saucers.

"Thanks." She muttered to Rachel's turned back as she shuffled a hand through pink locks, giving the girl little glances here and there, "And next time I tell you to rip my bra off, don't actually _rip_ my bra off." Quinn ended with an annoyed tone. Rachel could practically feel her rolling her eyes from behind.

"Not like I could hear your commands through all that panting." She snapped back quickly.

Quinn's eyebrows pushed dangerously close, "You know I just got through with a cold."

"You smoke." Rachel shot back with this more than obvious tone. She even turned quickly to give Quinn a show of her raised eyebrows.

A shrug, a smirk, "It's not like it makes my performance in the bedroom any less extraudinary."

"But it doesn't help either." Rachel muttered back, desperately trying to conceal the sudden blush on her cheeks,"Maybe it's time to stop smoking-"

"Panting or not panting...," Quinn replied tersely, stepping close as Rachel slipped on a fresh pair of panties, "...You cum either way. So who cares?"

"Whatever." Rachel muttered with a smile, cheeks tinted in red, all the frustration in her voice disappearing completely. Quinn watched her shuffle through her drawers for a shirt and then searched the room for her own outfit as well.

"I think my skirt is downstairs-"

"Try searching the couch cushions in the living room." Rachel turned around to reply, pulling a sweater over her head, "We-"

"Made out there." Quinn finished, halfway out of the room.

After the sweater was fit snuggly over her cold skin, Rachel slid on some sweats and went to fix her bed, maybe scamper in search of Quinn's clothes too. It was always fun to have this hide and seek game after every sexual occasion. Every now and then some panties would go missing, just to be found weeks later in the strangest of places. Once, in the very beginning of their little friend with benefits gig, Quinn and Rachel lost both of their bras in some sort of freak foreplay rendition of rocking the boat. The couch was the boat of course - but that's besides the point -, by the end of a day of searching, Quinn's mom comes home to find two bras stuck in her chandelier. It was certainly hard to explain that one. And it's still to explain to this day.

But it didn't matter now, really, it was a lax sort of afternoon. There was no rush. No means of panic. The house was free of parents. The mood perfect. It was incredibly beautiful out, the trees lightly salted with snow, the pavement racking up on spots of white delightfully and the air was brisk with white flecks of-

"Quinn!" Rachel shouted before she even exited her room. She was already halfway down the stairs when-

"Rachel honey."

A gulp. "Daddy."

"Rachel."

Another gulp. "Dad."

"We came home early, the-"

"The weather was bad and you two couldn't possibly have driven on such slippery roads in your critical state of having no snow tires and – daddy no offense – less than superior driving skills," She eyed them, "It only makes sense you two should have come home early." she finished tiredly, already exhausted from the panic sliding down her spine.

The two men blinked at their daughter, coats and scarfs in their hands, ready to be hung. "Rachel why are you talking so loud?"

The girl was already down the stairs, clambering into the living room. She called out to them about something with her ears needing to be cleaned and then there she spotted Quinn, slipping on her skirt frantically and hushing harshly at Rachel as to wear her shirt's whereabouts my be.

"We brought back food," Hiram called out from the kitchen, "It's from your favorite restaurant."

Rachel laughed into the couch cushions, an incredibly forced laugh. So fake it even gave Quinn a little shiver. Quinn, the girl currently looking behind furniture with no shirt and a tight black skirt on that was riding dangerously high.

And then walking. The pitter patter of feet, the voice of her father getting louder and louder. Now the cushions were off, landing on the floor with a flop. Turning around with a panicked expression Quinn ducked as Rachel forced the shirt over her head. And then her hands pulled through the holes and-

"Rachel are you-" Hiram stopped by the doorway, "Quinn."

"Hello ."

The man's dull sort of expression perked up immediately, he grinned, "Now Ms. Fabray, what did I tell you about calling me ?"

The girl, panting, flushed, straightening her shirt that was incredibly uncomfortable answered, "Never to call you that."

The man nodded, then pulled back into the kitchen, "Leroy set that table for four, guess who's here?"

"Is it that Finn boy?" The man called back almost immediately, "His car wasn't outside-"

"Quinn! It's Quinn dear."

"Oh Quinn!"

"Dads, Quinn couldn't possibly stay, she-" Rachel glanced to the girl beside her, "She has to use the bathroom." She spoke out stiffly, quickly, grabbing the girl's arm and rushing her out of the room.

"Is Quinn staying?" Leroy called from the kitchen.

Hiram watched as the girl's entered their bathroom, and closed the door promply. He shrugged, and stumbled into the kitchen, giving his husband a pleasant kiss.

"Rachel what is your deal?" Quinn hushed out angrily, pulling her arms away and standing an uncomfortable distance from the girl.

Rachel turned away from the closed door, raging eyes in check, "Don't get angry at me," she pointed, "Your shirts on inside out."

Quinn turned to the mirror. "And backwards," she muttered, flicking the tag below her neck.

Rachel ducked at her feet as the cheerleader shucked off her shirt quickly. Never once eyeing above the floor as she heard the sounds of folding and tucking. She always found it rude to stare. Even though they do this every week, the clothes always came off without a second thought, which meant during heated kissing and touches. And even though Quinn and Rachel were comfortable with each other naked, being friends and all, it still felt wildly inappropriate to stare, so Rachel kept her eyes down and her mind out of the gutter.

"Are you going to stay?" Rachel asked quickly, thickly, glancing up before her eyes could connect to a hazel stare.

Quinn answered back with a tone of relief, "I don't think so. It's getting late so..." She toyed with the hem of her shirt after it landed on her shoulders gracefully. She smoothed out her pink locks, pushing the bangs back with a free hand.

"Right."

She turned, hands bracing the sink counter and eyes locking intently. "I'll be back tomorrow probably," Quinn said, "Maybe I can have dinner _and_ a show."

Rachel tried to not giggle at Quinn's attempts of flirtatious bicker, "Finn is coming over tomorrow."

Eyebrows raised, smile in check, head to the side, "I guess I'll just hang out with my skanks then."

Rachel nodded scarcely, opening the door to let Quinn out first as she followed behind closely. They scampered by the open kitchen doorway, peeking in to find the Berry fathers setting up the table and dancing to some soft jazz. It was cute, their relationship. And it was even cuter when you counted how many times they almost caught Quinn and Rachel's little booty calls. Friends with benefits sounds more regal though, a bit more realistic. Even though they bickered like an old married couple the girls knew they would never really look good as a date, as a whole force of teen homosexuality. They were too similar, they both needed power, control, prominence. But the attraction was still there, it was always there, from the quick glances, to the ruffle of sheets, even to the predominant hand touching on the doorknob that was currently taking place.

Rachel pulled back quickly, "Sorry," she muttered.

"It's okay to touch me, Berry," Quinn teased, hushing so Rachel's parents would hear her untimely escape. "_You_ would certainly know that."

And then there came the untimely blush, letting out a nervous small chuckle Rachel raised on eyebrow and cocked her head upwards, "I certainly would."

Quinn, looking away from the messy flush before her, took a moment of silence, giving Rachel a quick little guilty stare, "Tell them I'm sorry." She asked kindly, softly.

Rachel nodded. She knew Quinn was genuine. She knew Quinn actually liked her fathers, past all their excessive little rambling quarrels and snuggles on the couch. Rachel could say that Quinn liked her dads better then her own parents. You could say Rachel was one hundred percent correct.

"Rachel?" Was called out from the kitchen, it was Leroy's angry voice.

"Bye." Rachel hushed out quickly, wrapping one free arm around her waist while the other waved.

Quinn didn't say much back, just sort of shrugged and walked of the open door with this perception of complete lax. She did just have mind blowing sex not 4 hours ago, it was a bit ridiculous how many times they've done this now. But it was becoming a trend, a routine, except it wasn't going to get boring any time soon. Then they stared, eyes gracing each other with a sense of comfort, silent relaxation. But it felt wrong, somehow, with the snow trailing behind Quinn, and the cold chill beating against their faces, it was almost as if Rachel just had to kiss her goodbye. Almost like a little thank you.

Her eyes glanced to those lips that hadn't moved for a while. Suddenly- ah, Quinn's tongue peeked out momentarily to wet said lips. And then she was gone, walking away from the Berry's open door and Rachel's hardened expression.

Back facing the Berry household and eyes scanning for her car, Quinn turned abruptly, "Thanks for the sex!" She hollered out into the snowfall, hands cupping her mouth, and she could see the blush from all the way across the street. She was sure that doors were actually opened to see who screamed this allegation on the road. Quinn didn't care, really, they could all look and watch. It wasn't like she was dating Rachel, and as much as she would love to come over tomorrow to kiss and fuck, it just didn't seem right to do that with Finn downstairs.

They did that once, Rachel and Quinn, fucking like bunnies with biting lips to push back moans as Finn played call of duty in the bedroom next door. Every so often he'd call out, _"Are you girls ever going to come out of that bedroom?,"_ playfully, teasingly. They knew he had no idea, they knew he wouldn't come to check. Quinn and Rachel fucking? What? Wouldn't they argue too much to even get past second base? Well you would be surprised to see out much the fighting actually helped to place 1st in that _particular ball game_. It helped immensely.

Thoughts swirling in her head, memories flooding back, Quinn wondered when the friends with benefits sort of thing would fade, and the true feelings would reveal their ugly heads. It didn't matter anyway. As much as she would have loved to kiss Rachel by that open door she knew she couldn't. Finn would do that tomorrow, by the same open door. With the same color of blush in check. The only difference would be that only out out of the three Berry's would like him. And all would give him the benefit of the doubt.

She swore she could hear Rachel say something when she slid into her car. Quinn never checked to see if Rachel was still standing there. She really never checked anything, except- Yep. Her panties were lost.


End file.
